City of Immortals
by anikam
Summary: What about Simon? The vampire, the Daylighter, the man with the mark of Cain. What about Simon Lewis? Well, you'll just have to read and find out.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Mortal Instruments trilogy. This amazing novel belongs to Cassandra Clare.

**A/N:** This is a small spin-off of _City of Glass_ I did for my English class. I liked it a little so I just decided to post it. I decided to do this version of a spin off, because well, the series following that path ended... but what about Simon? He was always a great character and he _really, really_ deserved someone. But Maia, I never really liked her all that much, and Isabelle is much too fickle to even be "steady". And I wanted to have a cute little scene between Clary and him... oh, and Magnus. He's great. Well, this is it. I hope you enjoy it. **No longer a oneshot_, _**but I might continue if you like it.

**City of Glass Spin off – City of Immortals**

"It's time for me to go."

I stare at the girl standing directly in front of me, silently wishing that the events preceding had occurred somewhat differently. Overall, the struggle had turned out _wonderfully_. Valentine was dead, the secrets of angel-boy's bloodline were revealed, and loyalties were ultimately decided. On the surface, everything was as perfect as possible in the Glass City. Idris' couples had become wrapped in perpetual embraces following the battle. Jace and Clary were almost inseparable – it's a wonder I'm able to speak to Clary alone now. The queer warlock, Magnus Bane, and the angst-ridden teen, Alec, had become an official couple. Isabelle has no one to hold for the moment, but I'm sure she'll be content with holding herself. But what about me? What about Simon Lewis?

"Simon, you don't have to leave," states the small red head matter-of-factly.

I sigh. "Yes Clary, I do have to leave. In fact, I have to leave in a few minutes. Magnus is opening a portal for me."

Clary stomps her small foot, irritated. "You know what I mean, Simon! There is no reason for you to leave here at all! Downworlders are becoming welcome in Idris now – we are all marked together. Shadowhunters are already purging themselves of their hate for your kind, so you really can't use that excuse to tell me _that's_ why you're leaving." As her temper spikes, so does her fire red hair. For a moment, it looks as if it's flaming, and that at any moment it'll reach out to me and submerge me into submission. In reality though it's just Clarissa Fray, a normal 110-pound girl who can't even put her weight against a door to open it.

"That's not why I'm leaving, Clary."

At first, her emerald eyes narrow, piercing into my own, but then they soften. It almost looks as if she's about to cry. "Then why, Simon? Why are you leaving me?"

I hate it when girls cry. Is it like a defense mechanism? "I'm not leaving you. Anytime you need me, just give me a ring. You know I'll answer." I carefully pull Clary into the fold of my arms, stroking her back and kissing her on the top of her head. Clary buries her head into my chest, letting the tears fall. Soon, I feel her clutching my loose shirt and tears soaking through the cotton and onto my chest. Clary hardly ever cries; at first, I thought that she was simply void of tears, but that obviously isn't the case here. "I'll always be here for you; I'll always be your best friend. No amount of miles is going to change that."

"You know cell phones don't work here," mutters Clary, raising her face from the burrow of my chest.

I'd forgotten that…but that doesn't mean I don't have a completely _amazing idea_. "Then if you ever feel the urge to speak to me, create a portal to get back to the city. It's not as if _they_, meaning The Clave, won't let you create one now. You saved the entire city from eminent destruction, they just can't tell you_ no_. And if they do, just call angel boy so that he can seduce – I mean persuade them." Clary digs her fingernails into my side as a sign of warning. "You know that doesn't hurt me anymore. Your fingernails may be insanely sharp, but you might break them if you persist. And I don't want you running to Jace crying." I gently push her away from me and wink at her. My lips turn down at the corners in a pout, and I scrunch my face together. "A_h, I broke a nail!_"

Clary punches me playfully, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "That's not funny."

"On the contrary, it really is."

Clary laughs and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, attempting to seem yet fearless and brave. She always tries to act so brave. Even now, she's biting back tears when all she wants to do is cry her eyes out. "Simon…" Surprisingly, she takes my hands in hers, and runs her fingers over my pale palm. "You're not different at all, you know. Besides, the missile-proof skin, rock hard abs, and cold touch you're the same. Even though you've turned into a vampire, you're still my Simon. And even though I'm officially Jace's, I'm secretly yours." She laughs to herself and kisses my cheek.

For a moment the warm touch of her lips, lingers on my cheek. I bring my hand to my face to caress the spot, but the warmth of the kiss is already gone. Something I miss about being human: body heat. "If Jace heard you say that, you know how jealous he'd be." Something I don't miss about being human: Being able to beat the shit out of Jace Wayland. "Then again, who would blame him? You're the most amazing person on this planet and he's the one that gets you. Let's face it babe, you were never really mine to begin with. In some weird way, you always belonged to this world – you always belonged to Jace," I state. "There's no use in evading the truth."

Clary bites down on her lip and glares at me with a cross look. "That's not true."

"Don't even start, Clary." I pull my hand from hers, digging both of them into my pockets.

Clary groans inwardly, pressing the palm of her hand against her forehead. "This is going to give me a headache." A _headache_? Being slammed against walls, getting swords thrust into her chest, and being flung across rooms doesn't give her a headache, but this topic _does_? "Do you seriously want to discuss this now, Simon? You're about to leave and I don't want anything unsaid between us, but I also don't want any hard feelings." She hesitates. "How about this? Say what you have to say to me, and I'll say what I have to say to you. Let's get everything out in the open before you leave for… wherever you're going." I like the fact that she's not going to try to pry it out of me.

"You go first." I look toward the sun and realize that it's almost time. "But hurry up, Magnus is impatient."

Clary breathes as if she is going to regret the words that are about to slip from her lips. "I love you, but only as a friend. I will always be your friend, but that's it. I'm sorry that the relationship between us didn't work out, but at least we tried. In addition, I'm sorry for getting involved with you while I still had feelings for Jace. That was wrong of me to take advantage of you to try to repress the feelings I had for him. Although, I honestly think that trying was worth it. You were worth it," says Clary between breaths. "Simon, I know that there's someone out there for you. I know there is. There has to be." I laugh a little. She's trying to convince herself. Whoever thought?

"I love you, in every aspect of the very word, _I love you_. I doubt that I'll ever think of you as just a friend anymore. However, the thing you don't seem to understand is that I will _always_ love you. One day though, I might be able to think of you as just a friend, but I highly doubt that day will ever come. So until then…" Once again, I pull Clary into my arms and hold her tight. Soon I won't be able to do this any longer. I'll be in a completely different dimension, halfway across the hemisphere. Then I kiss her, right smack on the lips. God, if only I could see the look on Jace's face when he hears about _this_. Clary doesn't kiss me back, but she doesn't move either, she lets me have this – even if it only last for a second.

I pull back to see her expression a mixture of angst and guilt. "See you later, Clary."

"Simon, wait…!" Before Clary can finish her sentence, I'm out of sight and out of earshot.

My feet pound the ground beneath me, but not harshly as to leave footprints in the cement. As of now, power surges through me now more than ever. I know not where it originates from, whether it is the fact of me becoming a vampire, or the fact that I am a Daylighter – a vampire that can walk in sunlight, or the inconceivable fact that Cain's mark is placed upon my forehead. The puzzle bemuses me, but ironically, for now, I don't care the least. All that matters now is getting out of _this place_. I don't know if I can take being in Alicante much longer. So many memories mark these roads that where created in _so little time_.

I skid to a stop when I spot Magnus near the wall of the city, a portal blazing the color of the rainbow on the wall. He stands out amongst the pale walls of Alicante, his black, crazy, and sparkling hair waving in the wind. Magnus grins at me with his yellow, cat like eyes and motions me forward to the portal. "Are you ready? It's now or never, and I don't know when you'll be able to get back into Alicante. People are still iffy about us Downworlders, so be on the lookout. And _please_, try to keep yourself out of trouble, _rat boy_."

I smirk at the nickname, stepping closer to the portal and holding onto the wall as to not get sucked in. "Aw, I'm flattered. You care about me!"

Magnus groans and half-laughs. "That is definitely not the case."

Then I let go.

**A/N:** I hope you liked it. It's short, but hey, my assignment was only three pages. If you have time I'd appreciate your thoughts!

_--Sangs Bleus_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hi again! Well, a few people were asking me to update, so well, here is the next chapter! I hope you like it. I tried to tune into Simon's personality as much as possible, and well, this is what I got. This chapter isn't very long, it's just four pages and I think it goes kind of slow, so be patient with me. We'll get to an exciting part soon enough.. Please read and review! Oh, I also suggest that while you read this chapter you listen to **No. 5** by **Hollywood Undead**.

**City of Immortals **

**New York, New York**

**--**

**July 22, 2008**

**6:30 PM - Streets**

_And all the kids in the hood come on wave and shake your hands! Hollywood we never goin down! And when you're drunk shake that ass like you know how to dance! Hollywood we never goin down!_ My cell phone vibrates deep within the crevices of my jean pants pockets, alerting me with a Hollywood Undead ringtone – No.5. I smile at the ringtone, bobbing my head to the beat and singing the insane lyrics before I press the _TALK_ button. "What's up?"

"Meet us at Java Jones!" Eric shouts through the phone, as if I _can't hear him_.

I laugh a bit, remembering the night I took Clary there for a poetry reading. Eric was reading his poetry – if that's what you could call it – and Matt was on the drums, looking stoned as ever. "For what? I'm not coming to another one of your poetry readings, Eric. If I hear the word _loins_ one more time I'm going to gut you like a pig." Then I laugh silently to myself, suddenly realizing how easy that would actually be. Maybe I wouldn't even have to use a knife. Maybe I could just be all wicked and punch through his stomach with my fist. Now _that_ would be cool.

"No, man, that's not why! Just to hang – you know. Besides, there are so many girls down here with rockin' bods! Tight asses, firm, and beautiful knockers! We need to find you a girl anyway, Simon. It's not like you're going to start dating Clary anytime soon." _Ouch_. I can handle rejection, but does that mean everyone has to have a say on my part? "Just get your ass down here, man!" Before I can reject his invite the line goes dead, and I pull the phone away from my ear to see the words _CALL ENDED_ flash across the screen.

Great. I could go to Java Jones to hang out with Eric, Matt, and a group of other people I don't know who will probably use the word _loins_ more than ten times throughout the night. On the other hand, I could wander the streets of New York City and let countless unanswered questions run through my head. I'm not sure which sounds more appetizing, but… _New York, New York. I want to wake up in a city that never sleeps!_ An elderly man whizzes past me on a bike, a boom box strapped to the handlebars. He's been up to this for more than two years, the same song, everyday, on a loop.

Java Jones, here I come.

**7:12 PM – Java Jones**

Pushing open the feather light door, I step into my old, simple world. It was a world where I was just Simon Lewis – a single guy with no special qualities and only a handful of friends. I just hadn't realized until now how much I prefer it that way. "Simon!" Eric calls to me from the stage, swaying back and forth with the microphone grasped in his hands. I scan the coffee house, noticing that it's more crowded than usual. I spot more than twelve people from school occupying the threadbare couches and armchairs – twelve people that I had never associated with more than once. I thought they all saw me as a skinny nerd.

Now, though, I'm a vampire. I may not be as sexy as Edward Cullen – not that I would know how sexy he actually is – but I think the effect of being a vampire adds to your level of _sexiness_. I'm not sure, but ever since I've become a vampire, girls have started to notice me more and more. Well, I'm not going to argue with nature if it wants to turn me into a living and breathing Adonis. Scratch that, _walking_. Living and breathing is too contradictory. Then again, why should I care about contradictions? I'm one myself.

"Simon, man!" Matt ambles towards me, a grin plastered onto his face. "Hey, we've got some girls for you to meet after this number!" Matt throws his arm around my shoulder and guides me toward the middle of the room, where a group of girls with rockin' bods shout Eric's name as he burst into a ear-splitting version of _We Are the Champions_. I cringe. At least this song doesn't have the word loins anywhere in the lyrics.

"We are the champions my friends! And we'll keep on fighting till the end!" Eric thrust his left hand into the air in a disoriented fashion, bobbing and weaving to the beat played on the bongos. "We are the champions…" He takes in a deep breath, scrunching his face up, and then lets out with a scream. "_We are the champions_!" The group of girls continues to giggle and laugh, the word _like_ and _omg_ emitting more than five times from each of their mouths. Maybe wandering the streets with crazy people would've been better.

Eric throws down the mike and jumps off the stage, still screaming. "Amazing, right? Eric has got some talent!" says one of the guys standing next to Matt.

Matt clears his throat and mutters, "You should hear him when he's sober, Allen! It's like a choir of majestic angels!" Allen laughs and slaps Matt on the back, turning away to walk over to the group of giggling girls. They greet with him with devilish grins and batting of the eyelashes. "Hey, you want to go over and meet some of those girls?" Matt winks at me and then waves at one of the semi-pretty girls. I gag mentally – my STD radar is going off the _charts_. "She's cute, huh? I'm going to go and talk to her. Socialize, Simon."

I raise an eyebrow. "Have fun getting herpes."

**8:38 PM**

The inhabitants of Java Jones talk loudly, laughing and throwing their arms in the air. Some spill their coffee while others bite down on muffins, absorbed in a good novel. How can they read with all of the chaos surrounding them? If it were me, I'd throw a book at one of their heads and tell them rather politely to shut the fuck up. Or I'd whip out my Jedi knight sword and Obi-wan Kenobi their asses! Then again, that sounds like an awful lot of work. Maybe I'd just own them with my newly discovered, amazingly awesome vampire powers. _That_ just might do the trick. All of a sudden, acquaintances and friends crowd around me, shouting at me to come join them on stage, as if I really want to make more of an ass out of myself. _Yeah. Vampire powers sound _great_ right now_.

"Hey."

Sipping lightly on a simple hazelnut coffee, I glance at the person standing in front of me. The girl's auburn hair falls all the way down to her waist, which accents her sea green eyes. Much to my surprise, she's pretty. "Hey," I mutter. My lips turn up into a small smile as I set down the drink on the table next to me. I let my eyes glaze over her again, and notice that she has a _rockin' bod_ and a full chest. Maybe this is one of the girls that Matt and Eric wanted me to meet. I'm not sure because my radar isn't going off at the moment.

"My names Marissa Moore." I take that back. The second I hear that thick, valley girl accent my radar goes off, sending millions of flashing red lights through my mind. Marissa settles herself comfortably into the seat beside me, propping her head on her hand, leaning on the armrest. "You're Simon, right? Eric has told me a lot about you already, but I wanted to know what was up with you myself." She plays with the tips of her golden-brown hair, twirling it around her fingers and eyeing me flirtatiously. I guess this is what's supposed to seem _sexy_ to me, but it doesn't. She's not nearly as beautiful as… _Clary_.

"Really," I murmur, distracted.

She giggles, as if I just said something that was laugh out loud hilarious. "I haven't noticed you around school before. You do go Bishop High, right?" she asks, attempting to make conversation. I nod. "So do I. Don't you just like, hate it there? The teachers are so nosy and the principal is so like, incredibly stupid. Oh my god!" she sighs exasperatedly and flips her hair over her shoulder. "I like, totally hate it there. Graduation day will be the best day ever. Right?" This is scary. I didn't know girls actually _spoke_ like that. I feel like I'm in some bad rip-off of _Mean Girls_ – Britney Spears starring as Marissa Moore.

"Like, totally." I fake a laugh and grab my drink. It's time to get out of here.

I rise from the loveseat and head for the exit, not daring to look back into the enemy's face. Really, I should have expected as much. What could be so great that the idea would be running though Matt and Eric's heads anyway? The only thing they want is a girl with a _rockin' bod _and a mind as dense and thin as a sheet of paper. No matter how insanely hot Marissa looks, I wouldn't date her if she was the last being on this planet – I wouldn't even drink her blood. This was stupid and a complete waste of time at any rate. Wait – time? Why should time matter to me? I've got eternity.

**8:50 PM**

I lean against the wall of Java Jones, bidding my time until I walk home to be confronted by a mother who hasn't even noticed the slightest change in her son. Should I expect her to notice? What's different about me? Besides the fact that I hardly ever wear my glasses anymore and the pallor in my olive skin, what's different about me? Clary told me that I was the same Simon that she had always known, but can I really trust her judgment? Who's to say what she said was true? Who's to say that it wasn't just a spur of the moment let's-make-Simon-feel-better kind of thing? Who's to say – _stop thinking about her. Stop thinking about Clary. _

_Relax_. The cold air whips across my face, providing comfort and a sense of verity. It's as if I now need reassurance that I'm alive to some screwed up degree. But anytime I touch my ice cold skin, realization dawns over me that I'm not actually _alive_. I'm undead. My heart stopped beating a while ago and it's never going to start up again. I am one of the Night Children, cursed to drink the blood of humans and to walk the Earth for eternity. Unlike other vampires though, I am impervious to sunlight and have the mark of Cain plastered upon my forehead. _Now isn't _that_ just fucking dandy_.

"Java Jones, Simon? I never would've guessed."

My eyes narrow at the heavily accented Spanish voice. "Raphael." I blink and then open my eyes to see him standing directly in front of me. He nods and extends his hand. I look down at it as if it's some kind of foreign object. What makes him think I would like to shake his hand? After all of the shit that went on during the Final Battle, does he actually think that I would want to shake _his_ hand? The bastard was going to kill me for such an _idiotic reason_. It wasn't my fault that I drank Jace's blood – I didn't know he was angel boy then. _I _thought he was your everyday, run of the mill asshole who was looking to please.

"Fair enough, Daylighter," says Raphael, wrapping his fingers around the cross about his neck. "How are you fairing? Clary told me that you fled the Glass City as soon as possible. It seems that you were… overwhelmed. You know you could always come back to Dumont." Yeah, like I really want to be trapped with a bunch of blood suckers who hate my guts because _I _can walk in sunlight and _they_ can't. Sweet, sweet irony. "You're welcome, my friend. You're always welcome."

I shrug. "No thanks. I don't know what I'm going to do, but I sure as hell don't want to stay here."

Raphael grins from ear to ear. "You could always leave here, you know. Go to an entirely different continent and make a life for yourself. It would be a change of pace for you and a much deserved rest. You rather like the idea, do you not?" says Raphael enthusiastically. Actually, that does sound like a damn good idea. But where would I get the money from? Where would I get the _permission _from? Whoever thinks my mom is going to let me spend the rest of my teen years alone in another continent unsupervised, they're riding on a fucking crazy train. _Well maybe you're the one whose riding a fucking crazy train, but I've been the Prince of Darkness since 19_79. Good old Ozzy.

"Great idea, but where would the funds come from? The permission?"

Raphael laughs arrogantly. "I can draw the funds from a personal account of mine. I owe you that much. And as for parental consent, seeing as you're still a minor… there are a number of ways for that to be taken care of." My eyes widen in horror. Why does he sound like he's going to send Tony to my house to _take care of_ my mother? "No, no. Nothing drastic. You are a vampire now, so along with this condition comes _power_. The powers that a vampire has varies from each individual, however, they usually don't come within the first year of rebirth. I believe you possess a few, nonetheless."

_Really_? Things just keep getting more and more interesting.

**A/N: **Hope you like it! Review please!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Sorry for the late update! I haven't really been able to conjure up any want to actually write something. So this chapter is really sketchy and basically just a filler. The next chapter comes when Simon finally vacations to wherever he wants. I'm having trouble deciding whether the place should be in the US or the UK. If you read this author's note then please leave your vote in your review. Whichever country has the most votes then that is the country it shall be. Thanks for visiting! Get to reading you silly people! :]

**City of Immortals **

**New York, New York**

**-- **

**July 22, 2008**

**10:21 PM – Lewis Household**

"Mother dearest!" I shout, stepping inside to the badly decorated, incredibly warm, and immensely cluttered household. "Someone didn't clean house today." If this were someone's first time in my house, they would think they were walking into an antique shop instead of a dwelling that humans inhabited. They'd be wrong though – they'd be terribly wrong. When Clary would come to visit, she would be hesitant about _sitting down_, afraid that she'd break a chair or something. I casually told her that her weight couldn't break a _single thing_. Then she'd kick me.

"You didn't feed Snoop either." I avert my eyes to the scrawny calico cat that slinks toward me at an attempt to be sneaky. Whoever said that all cats were graceful obviously didn't know my pet. "Clumsy rat," I groan, sweeping the feline into my long arms before he stumbles and hits the table leg. "How many treats did you give him today? He seems more excited than usual." Snoop climbs from my grasp and up to my shoulders, purring in my ear and rubbing his soft head against mine.

"Mm…" Because of my heightened senses, I hear my mother's groan from the kitchen. "I just emptied most of the treats into the cat bowl today. The baby's been good." Mom's feet make little to no sound as she appears from the kitchen, dressed in hip-huggers and dark t-shirt. "Speaking of babies, how's mine? Still alive, I see!"

If that wasn't irony then I don't know what is. "I'm fine, mom. When are you going to dust this place…? I feel like I'm surrounded by dead people." Ah, I made a funny; too bad she doesn't know it.

"Soon! I think that we're going to start cleaning this house from top to bottom. And we can always sell a few things I suppose…" Mom's eyes look watery as she glances around the room, different antiques that belonged to various relatives reflecting in her crystal blue eyes. Great, here comes more nostalgia. "We can't give away Granny's rocking chair though, and we can't give away Dad's grandfather clock. You know that clock has been in our family since - eek!"

I throw Snoop at my erratic mom, laughing as he lands on her broad shoulders and begins to slide down her arm. "Feed Snoop some _real_ food and then I need to talk to you about something."

"About what?"

"I'll tell you when I get back." I make my way up the stairs and to my bedroom, practically running until I hear my mom shout not to. When I wrap my fingers around the doorknob and push it open, I am _immediately_ assaulted by the smell of four-month-old _cheese_. I didn't think I even knew what that smelled like. "Thank Go – Him for _Febreeze_," I say angrily, grabbing a bottle of the air-freshener off my wardrobe. As soon as five seconds pass of spraying the product throughout the room, the stink begins to clear up. "If I didn't know any better, I'd swear this was made by the High Warlock of Brooklyn."

As I set the spray bottle down, I gaze around _my _room, noticing how everything looks so different yet the same. It's as if I've walked into an entirely different world, yet I'm completely familiar with its customs. I know every shortcut and the name of every street. For instance, I can tell just from the clutter of my room that there's probably a Star Wars action figure shoved underneath the bed. Darth Vader made me angry because his voice box was messing up so I decided to banish him to the Land of No Return.

The bed itself is cluttered with dirty clothes, half-clean clothes, books, posters, and a red Fender guitar. Unlike underneath my bed, there is no five-month-old cheese resting on a grimy plate. Come to think of it, the last time I really ate in my room was when this whole mess with Clary started. "Clary…" I murmur involuntarily.

_**July 22, 2008**_

_**9:00 PM – Java Jones**_

"_Only a select few vampires have powers beyond that of the norm. You, however, are different because you ingested the Shadowhunters blood – as you already know." Raphael stares at me intently with a smirk playing on his lips. The clan leader attempts to hide his obvious jealously and does a _terrible _job at it. Ah, I love the smell of jealously in the morning. "You should be able to do certain things that even I cannot."_

"_Can I levitate stuff? Mind reading like Edward Cullen? Or can I see the future like Alice? By the way, I didn't actually _read_ Twilight. I'm just using it as a reference." It's funny. I never thought I'd be able to use characters as dense as them to describe my life, which is kind of depressing if you think about it._

_Raphael snorts and fingers the cross dangling around his neck. "I highly doubt that, Daylighter." _I highly doubt that, Daylighter._ Why does he sound like he has a splintered, wooden stake shoved up his ass half of the time? Wait, stupid question. "A number of vampires with powers have the ability to force their thoughts into mundane minds. Mind you that this _only_ works on the mundane._

"_I trust that you can do just that. Nevertheless, remember that this power has limitations. You have to push your own thoughts, beliefs, morals into the mundane mind without hesitation and with complete absolution. If you so much as stutter or say a word that triggers a lie, the hold that you have on their mind will vanish."_

"_What's the trigger?"_

"_It depends on the person you're attempting to persuade. Each mundane has their own mindset –their morals, beliefs, and personality are their own. When you attempt to change that mindset, there is always the possibility that your hold will not be strong enough. In fact, it happened to me once. I tried to persuade Clary and Jace, but it didn't work. I don't know whether it is because they are Shadowhunters or not. I just know that it didn't work." _

_Ha! Persuade Clary? That's the funniest shit I've heard all day. "Clary's not one to be told what to do. I wouldn't try it anymore if I were you. Besides, I think I can survive without the whole mind trick thing. I have puppy dog eyes." If she ever found out what Raphael had tried to do to her, she'd probably rip him to shreds. It'd be like seeing a monster truck getting ran over by an even _bigger_ monster truck at a Monster Truck Rally. Whoa, now that I think about… that'd be pretty sweet. _

"_Right, Clary. If I had known how she was at that point in time, I wouldn't have tried. The thing I admire about her is her fire and her spirit – being beautiful also helps." _

_I wonder if anyone would notice if I slit his throat and threw his body into a bag. "Yeah, she's great…" _

**Present **

Am I ever going to forget about her?

_She fucking hates me! Trust!_ _She fucking hates me! La, la, la love!_ Are you kidding me? I grab my phone from the fissures in my pockets and stare at the name above the number: _Clary_. I'm starting to think that the universe is plotting against me now, because this… I'm not even sure if you could call it irony, but it's _killing me. _Isn't it enough that every second of the day, I try to forget about her, but she pops into my head nonetheless? Apparently, not, since I have to have constant reminders of what I can't have.

I really, really need to change my number.

"Simon! I fed the cat!" Mom shouts from downstairs. Quickly, I make my way back downstairs and settle myself down onto the couch besides my mom. "What did you want to talk to me about?" She sits next to me occupied with filing her nails, her eyes glued to the television in front of us. As usual, another rerun of _South Park_ is playing. As if we all really need to be shown the death of Kenny over and over again. Yeah, the show's repetitive, but it works. "Simon?"

I blink and come back to the physical word, groaning. "Oh, yeah, about that. Well, have you ever considered moving?"

Mom stops sawing off her long nails and turns to look at me with a bemused expression. For the first time in months, she _really _looks at me. Her eyes dance over my face, attempting to read my expression and notice a few things that are… different. "Your eyes… they're darker than they used to be. Almost black. And you don't wear your glasses anymore," she states matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, well, everyone's eyes get darker with age. And I got some cheap contacts, mom. I just forgot to tell you. Now, can we get back to the issue at hand here?" This is going to be a very, very long night. I can already tell.

"Um, sorry, Simon," she says, shaking her head as if she were waking from a daze. "I've thought about moving then and again, but you know, this place is our home."

I shrug lazily. I don't really consider this home anymore. Do I have a place to rightfully call my own, then again? "Your home, mom. Not mine." The mousy blonde raises her eyes to get another good look at me. She's surprised at my response.

"What do you mean? You've lived here your entire life. You have family and friends -."

I cut her off before she can utter another word, "_Had_ friends. Clary is gone and I wouldn't call the idiots Eric and Matt _friends_." Seriously, who would call those talentless idiots friends? They're replaceable unlike a certain redhead I know. "There's nothing here for me. I'm going to be a senior next year and I don't like anyone in my graduating class. There is _nothing_, absolutely _nothing, _here for me."

"Simon…" she sighs, annoyance coating her tone. "You can always make new friends this school year. It's not like the entire population of your high school are imbeciles."

"That's the thing mom, they are."

"You're being melodramatic."

"You're being difficult," I retort.

Her eyes narrow into slits as an attempt to scare me – it doesn't work. I know she thinks she can intimidate me with that facial expression, but all she does is make herself look like an angry little person. If a tiny, 5'2 woman with blonde hair and blue eyes glared at you, would you be frightened? I'd question your sanity if you were.

"Let's say we were to move, where would we move to? It's not like we can pull the money out of our ass, Simon. We'd have to buy a house in the said destination and I'd need to find a new job. In New York, I have a job and we have a stable living environment. Now, don't get me wrong, I know the City isn't the safest place in the world, but it's better than some places."

I roll my eyes and sigh exasperatedly. Nice argument, mom. "Oh yes, this place is better than some places mom. While you're comparing our city to other parts of the world, by all means let's pack up and move to the ghetto."

"Don't be a smartass."

"I get it from you." I smirk, winking. Ah, how I adore sarcasm.

"Simon," she groans.

"Mom, it's the summer. Can I at least get out of New York for a while? Everything in this city reminds me of Clary."

My mom's mien twist into a sympathetic one, her eyes brimming with water as she bites down on her lip. Since I've returned from Alicante I haven't told my mother any of the speculator details, but I've told her about Clary. She knows about Jace, the man whose Clary's heart now belongs to and vice-versa. And she knows how much it pisses me off to think about the bastard. "Where would you like to go?"

_The puppy dog eyes _always_ work_.

**A/N: **Hope you liked this chapter, sweets. Now if you would be awesome enough as to leave your vote in the reviews for whether Simon vacations to the UK or the US... Thanks for reading! Now review! Don't forget to cast your vote!

UK: 1

US: 2


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Sorry for the major lack of updates! I've been really busy in these past few months with friends, personal issues, and all that crap. Not to mention SCHOOL. I want to blow my brains out everyday in Geometry class, but luckily, I haven't gotten to actually doing that... _yet_. This is the final chapter before he finally arrives in Alaska. And yes everyone. He IS going to Alaska. I kind of fell in love with it when I watched The Proposal, starring Sandra Bullock and the oh-so cute Ryan Reynolds. If you haven't seen it, watch it. Good stuff. And Ryan R. takes off his shirt and is almost completely nude in a scene or two... Yeah, 'nuff said. I'm back now though, and updates should be more frequent. I feel much better and I'm not stressed anymore. Also, my birthday was officially over three hours ago since it is now 2:36 AM. January 22nd, bye-bye. See you next year! I hope this chapter is sufficient for now, and I promise there will be better ones in the future. But remember guys, I haven't written anything in at least three months. So bare with me! I hope you like it! :) **Please R&R! **

**City of Immortals **

**New York, New York**

**-- **

**July 24, 2008**

**6:40 AM – LGA Airport **

_The time is now six forty AM. Flight 142 to Seattle, Washington is now boarding. The flight departs in twenty minutes. Thank you. _

"Simon, I have a favor to ask of you."

I look at my mother quizzicality, wondering what can be running through her head. "Yeah, I won't do anything drastic. No sky diving, no texting while driving, and absolutely no talking to strangers who promise me candy." She probably thinks I'm going to go jump off a mountain or two, breaking my neck in the process. If I _ever_ even attempted to do that, I'd make sure that I at least had a parachute. She doesn't need to worry about me breaking my neck either, because it'd just snap back in place anyway. Now that I think about it, that'd be pretty fucking _sick_.

"Simon, stop being sarcastic," she says, crossing her arms. I loved how she tried to do that whole I'm-a-hardcore-gangster-from-the-Upper-East-Side look. Mommy even has her gangster lean going on. "I'm being serious, dear. You know how your Aunt Heather is sometimes. She can be _very_ stern, so your _wonderful_ sarcasm might annoy her a little. And by a little, I mean to the point of biting your head off, spitting on it, and then stomping on it in six inch heels."

"Maybe after that she'll dance around my grave!"

"Simon."

"_Mother dearest_?"

The mousy blonde sighs exasperatedly and hands me another bag of luggage, her piercing eyes never leaving my face. "One day that mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble. I only have _one_ son and I want him to come back to me in _one_ piece; not in one million because he mouthed off to a psychotic bastard." My mom caresses my cheek with her small hand, her expression solemn and inquisitive. Suddenly, I feel an overwhelming sense of guilt and sadness all at once. "Just promise me you'll come back to me _alive_."

I can't promise you that mom, I'm already dead. My heart doesn't beat; blood doesn't rush through my veins. I'm a walking corpse and you don't even know, and you probably never will. "You worry too much," I say as fake laughter escapes through my mouth. Grabbing her small hand, I put it to my lips and kiss it. "I'll be okay. Cross my heart, hope to die."

Mom grins and kisses the back of my hand in return. "You better go. Your flight will leave soon." As she loosens her grip, I feel the immense need to pull her into my arms and tell her everything. But I know I can't, because it'd shatter her world into millions of tiny pieces of what used to be. So instead of gathering her into my arms, I retreat backwards, still facing her – sketching her face into memory as if I'd never see it again. "Remember, when you land in Seattle after six hours, you switch planes and head for Anchorage. There, there'll be a much smaller plane to take you to Haines."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Love you, Mom. See you in two months!"

I'm such a momma's boy, it's _pathetic_.

**8:40 AM – En Route**

I should've taken the Red Eye. This is fucking _hell_.

It's been three hours since we departed from LGA and started to make our way to Seattle. The seats are increasingly uncomfortable and the aisles are small, so small that one attendant's hips gave me a concussion as she walked pass. Also, the guy next to me snores like a bear in fucking hibernation, and when he decides he needs a nap, he tends to lean to his left. You know the best part of this situation? _He drools_.

So now, I'm sitting here, grinding my teeth, and deciding whether or not I should kill the bastard. "What time will we arrive in Seattle, miss?" asks an elderly woman from behind me, in a voice so saccharinely sweet I wonder if my ears are bleeding. "Because dear, I forgot to phone the maid and tell her that she's to fill Jewel's bowl every day for the next week. I'm forgetful sometimes, you know." As she said this, her bony knees sunk into the back of my seat.

_It just happened_. I swear I just envisioned snapping that sweet old lady's neck.

"We'll be arriving in Seattle in three hours, ma'am. I'm sorry, but cellular telephones are not allowed while the plane is the air. Once we touch ground, you'll be able to call your house keeper. Until then, do you need anything? A pillow perhaps? By the way, call me _Laura_."

Why wasn't I asked if I wanted a damn pillow? "No thank you, _Laura_. But thank you for asking. Oh, and dear, would you mind pulling down your skirt? We don't want the entire flight to get a glimpse of the good stuff, right?" I watch the attendant walk away with a rather pleasant smile on her face, but I can't possibly comprehend how in the hell that's possible. I don't know about you, but I'd have to roundhouse kick someone Chuck Norris style if they spoke to me like that. In fact, a Chuck Norris delivered roundhouse kick is the preferred method of execution in 16 states.

You know what? My name should be accompanied by a kickass karate move. _A Simon Lewis delivered 720 switch blade is the preferred method of execution in 16 states_. Nah, it doesn't work. My name just fucks the whole vibe up. Who in their right mind would name their kid Simon Lewis? What kind of hallucinogenic was my mom on when she named me? "Sir, would you like anything?" This was the same women before, with the same bright smile on her face. Flight attendants should be declared saints because their patience is beyond me.

"No thanks. I'm good. But I can use my laptop now, right?"

Laura nods, still grinning. It's getting kind of creepy now. "Yes, just be sure to turn it off when we or the pilot signal you to do so. Anything else?"

For a moment, I consider putting the moves on her. Maybe I'd ask her if she came here often, and then I'd probably flex my bulging muscles. But I don't think that'd be feasible, because I still look like a sixteen year old going through puberty, and she could be a runway model for Dolce & Gabbana. And no, I'm not gay. It's just a comparison damn it. So instead of trying to join the Mile High Club I simply say, "No, thank you."

Disappointed, I reach under my seat and pull out my laptop from the bag it resides in. This thing here, it's my baby. Two years ago, I had a shitty old Dell computer that ran as fast as a turtle. Applications would take two years to open, and I had to turn off the computer for at least thirty minutes after an hour, or it would freeze. But _this_ year, I received a brand new Mac Book. If I didn't know any better, I'd think it was El reincarnated.

I press the "on" button on my laptop, and my account pops up in less than a minute. When I open Firefox, the first thing I see in my inbox is a message from _Clarissa Fray_… Maybe, if I pretend it doesn't say her name I can ignore it long enough for me to check the other messages around it.

_Wal-Mart is looking for a cashier. Are you qualified?_

_Do you want to be bigger!? Click __**HERE**__!_

_Are you having relationship issues? Thinking about committing suicide? Click __**HERE**__!_

_My name is John, and I'd like to talk to you about…_

_You and Clarissa Fray haven't talked in a while. Connect with her on __**Facebook**_**.**

**FML. **

I reluctantly click the link and sign onto Facebook, instantly going to Clary's page and looking for recent activity. _Clary commented on Isabelle Lightwood's status one minute ago._ Oh fuck. This is so not my day man; not at all. Why is everything so messed up in my life? I'm usually never one to pity myself - at the risk of sounding like a melodramatic girl – but this is unacceptable. I won't accept this. I'm going to be all ninja like, and navigate to another site before any contact is made. I am a stealthy ninja in the night… slinking along the walls, plotting the murder of a dictator terrorizing the world… I am the embodiment of sneakiness and trickery. I am–

_Clarissa Fray_

Simon?

Are you there?

Where are you?

I called you and it went straight to voicemail.

----

I love my life _so_ much right now.

**A/N: **DRAMATIC ENDING. DUH DUH DUH. Okay, I wouldn't call this dramatic. But I think it'd be hard to face Clary after everything they've been through together, and now that she's with Jace and all. So I hope you liked so please **review. It's much appreciated. Also, underneath is a sneak peak into a future chapter**. It will of course be completely revised though.

----------

I loved the way her lips curled into a devious smile when she was up to something. The best part was that her intentions weren't always good. "Simon, do you trust me?" I thought about this for a moment, and realized that I did. After everything I've found out about her in the past month - all the good, the bad, and the ugly - I trusted her completely. Her voice reassured me when I was unsure, and she was entirely too significant when nothing else in the world mattered. Did I trust her? Yes. Did I love her? Definitely. Yes, that's right folks. I'm in love, and not with a short redhead with green eyes. No, the girl I'm in love with is completely different. Personality wise and appearance wise they're nothing alike.

"Yes, I trust you."

"How well do you think you know me?"

Is this a trick question? "I know you very well. Your favorite color is green, and despite your kind nature, you _hate_ a lot of things. You hate it when people pass in front of you, and then decide to drive slow. You like it when people run their fingers through your hair, even though you don't like people to actually _touch_ your hair. You, my dear, are a complicated lady with a complicated past. Unlike most people I know, you don't wear your heart on your sleeve and you conceal your feelings too well. You're anything but an open book, you're a..."

"What am I, Simon?"

I snickered. "Do you like riddles?"

She wrinkled her nose as if the word itself smelled disgusting. "No. Not particularly."

"Well...Your author's uncertain yet your title's the same. You contain random text yet order's your aim. Read you one day and see your pages are totally bare. Try again another day and the words will be there. You're not a book of magic although it may sound, you can predict the future, and inside, your life can be found. Move your eye, you become involved in lactic extraction. But that's just a clue, a minor distraction. What are you?"


End file.
